


Tarantism

by HazelnutShippingCo



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dancing, M/M, Separations, the Three Elven Rings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8608267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelnutShippingCo/pseuds/HazelnutShippingCo
Summary: Tarantism - the urge to overcome melancholy by dancingsilverfisting/silvergifting written for a prompt





	

Celebrimbor sat alone, working in his study. Or rather, he was attempting to work in his study. Various sketches and missives lay strewn over his desk, but he could focus on none of them. With a sigh, the lord of Eregion took out a new sheet of parchment, determined that he must accomplish at least something that evening. Dipping the tip of his quill into a pot of ink, he made to begin another letter. But he faltered as he penned the date, his hand slipping, spattering ink across the page. 

In a fit of frustration, Celebrimbor threw the quill across the room. It skittered away across the stone floor. He stood up from the desk, thrusting aside the offending page. The date at the top, still wet, smeared to obscureness. But illegibility did not negate fact.

Five years. It had been five years to the day since Annatar had left, left without a word to him or anyone else in Ost-in-Edhil. He had vanished without a trace, gone in the space of a single night, leaving Celebrimbor to wake alone in a cold bed, his heart colder still when Annatar did not come back and Celebrimbor realized his husband had truly left him, chilled with a loneliness that had never since departed. Even now, Celebrimbor shivered with it. He shook his head, trying to will such thoughts from his mind. But the question clung firmly: why had Annatar gone?

Celebrimbor walked about the room now, pacing. He could not bear to be still with such thoughts clamoring in his head.

Why had Annatar left him? Had they not been happy together? Annatar had shown no outward sign of discontent. Celebrimbor had gone over and over in his mind the preceding days, months, years, before Annatar’s sudden departure. There had been nothing to merit such an abrupt and unannounced leave-taking, no arguments, no unexpected news, nothing. He had questioned every one of the smiths who had worked alongside him and Annatar. None of them had had any notion that Annatar planned to leave. He had always seemed happy teaching them in the forge, pleased with the progress they were making together.

Then why? Did Annatar not love him? Celebrimbor’s steps faltered for a moment at the thought, but the doubt was quickly overcome. No, he told himself, his feet resuming their motion. Annatar loved him, of that he was certain. Celebrimbor had felt it, sensed it, known it truly within the depths of his soul, tangible as the bond between their spirits. Annatar loved him. He believed that fully.

Celebrimbor continued to pace about the room, turning fluidly as he reached the edge again, causing his robes to catch upon the air and swirl around his ankles. The motion reminded him of the times they had danced – he and Annatar together, at festivals and celebrations, matching rhythms in steps, catching hands to draw him near, only to have him spin away again. But he always returned, always found his way into Celebrimbor’s arms again – it was the way of the music between them.

Celebrimbor’s feet moved now to the beat of memories’ melodies. Alone in the study, he danced. But in his heart, he was not alone, and when he closed his eyes, he almost thought he could feel Annatar in his arms again, feel the gentle touch and pull of him as they moved in tandem, in symmetry and balance. He remembered how the two of them had so often then slipped away, as the evening wore on and the music faded behind them, leaving to seek for more resonant harmonies and rhythms shared only between the two of them.

Celebrimbor’s heart ached as he opened his eyes and let his body come to stillness. His gaze lit upon the quill he had thrown. With a sigh, he stooped to retrieve it.

Five years Annatar had been gone from him. Five years without a word. Celebrimbor returned to the desk and looked at the papers that lay upon it. Some of them still bore Annatar’s handwriting. They had accomplished so much together, melding science and magic, crafting items of such beauty and power as the world had never seen before. And there was so much yet they could accomplish. What reason had Annatar to leave all this behind?

But though Annatar had left them, his influence remained, and Celebrimbor would not let his teachings go to waste. Taking up the quill and dipping it into the pot of ink, he settled again behind the desk and reached for the parchment he had smeared. Celebrimbor began sketching. Annatar would return, the elf reassured himself. He could not allow himself to believe any differently. However many years it took, Celebrimbor would wait for him, yearning, but not idle. He would show Annatar what he was capable of, what Annatar’s gifts of knowledge had given him the skill to create.

Three circles lay inked upon the page, unadorned as yet, but not for long. It was a practical project, one he hoped might help to take his mind off the wait. Celebrimbor hummed softly to himself, his foot tapping to the beat of the song’s coinciding dance, while his hands worked to flesh out the design, adding notes on the materials and techniques he would use. 

Annatar would return to him. And when he did, Celebrimbor promised himself, he would show him these – the most powerful yet of all the rings they had crafted. How could he have known that Annatar was planning something much the same?


End file.
